


All Games are the Same

by firjii



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Orlais, Orlesians, Other, Tevinter, nervous dorian, societal conventions of thedas, supportive vivienne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 23:37:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12828546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firjii/pseuds/firjii
Summary: Anxious about looking his best when he reunites with his amatus, Dorian receives help and candid advice from an unexpected source.





	All Games are the Same

“It really isn’t that difficult, darling,” she purred.

“It _is_.” His voice stomped almost as literally as his booted foot.

She smirked but continued with her task. “Come now. One would think that someone so accustomed to preening would know how to accomplish such a simple task.”

He squared his shoulders. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a compliment.”

She chuckled marginally. “Let us not be _too_ ambitious. And it’s only a mustache, darling. Your amatus will hardly even notice if it doesn’t curl symmetrically.” She smiled, her eyes suddenly warm. “You’re clearly competent enough with appearances if you survived as long as you did in a place like Tevinter. This is _Ferelden_. I’m certain that the height of care about appearances here extends as far as not smelling like a wet dog or being drunkenly naked in public.” She hooked an eyebrow as she fussed the delicate brush over his mustache. “And perhaps not even _that_ if the occasion falls on Satinalia.” 

He snorted and attempted to contain his impatient squirming to his legs for the sake of a quicker completion of the effort. “If you didn’t want to help, why did you even offer?” 

She stopped and sobered. “I heard what happened with your father.”

“And what does such an accomplished and coiffured Orlesian have to say about it, eh?” His shoulders popped on the last. “I imagine you have quite a bit to say about _my_ sort. Orlesians do care so very much about appearances, after all.”

She deflected the jibe without so much as a cringe. “Behind closed doors – and sometimes where there are _no_ doors, if one is sufficiently connected – Orlais is no more or less indulgent than Tevinter. So long as you and those involved understood what they were doing, I have nothing whatsoever to say on the matter.”

“That’s not _entirely_ true.”

She stared simply at him, her plain gaze forcing his eyes onto her through mere persistence. “Your father spoke poorly. He _acted_ poorly, even by Tevinter’s standards. I sympathize with his heartache, but not enough that I would ever condone such a selfish act.” She made one final inspection of the upturned curls of his raven mustache. Satisfied, she set the petite brush down on its velvet wrapping. “To some, it might have been different if he had been playing The Game, but he wasn’t.”

The severe edge to his shoulders softened a fraction. He sighed. “Tevinter has its own sort of games, dear lady. Status is at the heart of all of them.”

“I’m sorry.” For once, she _was_. “The world has enough troubles without others adding to it for the sake of familial pride. You deserved better. Even if we mages must be rivals in our field, I see no reason why I should not treat you with the basic decency owed to all reasoning creatures.”

One corner of his mouth rose at the same time that his forehead creased. “What generous words from the First Enchanter.” His tone was as unfathomable as his face.

“I just want to take care of you. We all do.”

“I know.” Without considering that it could ruin Vivienne’s efforts, he casually slipped a hand up to rub his face, as if to hide a tremble in his chin. He made to leave his quarters but stopped at the door. He breathed deeply, the jitter just widespread enough to be visible. Vivienne was silent. 

Dorian’s head lowered, but not in defeat.  


“Thank you,” he murmured breathlessly.


End file.
